Christmas Warmth
by Animegoil
Summary: Christmas Eve, and Daisuke is helped by a stranger, Satoshi, who is then taken into the Niwa home. Meanwhile, Krad is rescued from death by Dark, who has chosen him for himself. But things aren't as nice as they sound... KxD DxS Flangst
1. Meeting

**Merry Christmas! This was a little Season fic I thought up in honor of Christmas. **

**Disclaimer: DNAngel isn't mine. But if you want, you could get it for me for Christmas… -smiles sweetly- **

**Anyway, this is set in an Alternate Universe. It's still in Azumano, but they're 14 and 17 (Daisuke, Satoshi and Krad, Dark respectively). None of them know each other, and there's no magic or stealing of artworks.**

**Anyway…. On to the fic! **

* * *

_**Christmas Warmth**_

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The streets were crowded with last-minute shoppers, all frantically bustling with children or bags in tow, snapping at the former to hurry up. The Christmas lights were so numerous and bright they almost made Satoshi Hiwatari feel slightly dizzy. That and the carolers, or the Christmas music that rang out from cell phones or radios, or those cheap decorations that squeaked out short versions of Season's classics.

It was depressing, to be truthful. He was the only one who wasn't frantically rushing around, or laughing and joking around with family or friends. He wouldn't go home to a family happily wrapping presents for the next day. He wouldn't have a nice warm dinner for Christmas Eve, surrounded by his parents, or siblings—he didn't have any. And he sure as heck wouldn't be anxiously getting up on Christmas morning to search the tree for presents bearing his name to enthusiastically rip open. Instead, he would go home to a dark, cold house, go to work the next day, come home late, get up early Christmas morning to file reports from the night before and maybe go down to the police station, him being the fourteen-year-old Commander of the Azumano Police Force. And would do all of that alone.

He could faintly remember holidays resembling something warm and happy. The memory was faded, so much that sometimes he wasn't sure if it wasn't just some dream of his early childhood, before his family had died and he'd been adopted. Though on the surface he would scoff at those memories of sitting in his mother's lap, watching his younger sister take a piggy-back ride on his father's back before they would switch off and his father would let him put the angel on the top of the tree, inwardly, he knew he treasured those memories more than his lonely life itself.

He was leaning casually, solitarily, against a pine tree covered in Christmas lights, casting contradicting glows of red yellow and green around him. Sick of his solemn, gravelly quiet apartment, he'd decided to see what pre-Christmas Eve day was like at the outdoors mall in Azumano. It was depressing though, the feeling of being left out, but anything was better than the nostalgic feeling he'd been getting lately at home. Even if it was another feeling of nostalgia.

"Oh no! I'm still ten dollars short!"

Sapphire eyes turned involuntarily towards the smooth-toned voice now frantic with distress. It belonged to a short red-haired boy, about his age, who was now flailing around, emptying his pockets and wallet and shopping bags filled with odd assortments of wrapped presents. Fiery red eyes glowed with an inner light as they searched about.

"I wanted to get Mom that dress…" he said, disappointment audible. Satoshi cocked his head, an expression of mixed amusement and forced indifference alighting his face, and he couldn't help but chuckle at the wild antics of the frantic ruby-eyed boy. His eyes wandered over the boy, wondering why he felt warm just by looking at him. He looked familiar too, but he couldn't place from where. Taking a glance at the object in front of him, he saw it was a stunning blue silk dress. Glancing at the diminutive, striking gown, Satoshi imagined that the boy's mother must have been beautiful, and with a heavy feeling in his iced heart, he wondered if _his_ mother had been beautiful.

Making his mind up, the blue-haired boy pushed himself away from the tree and found himself making his way over without thinking.

Daisuke Niwa was in a state of panic. After three days of searching, he had finally found something he was sure his mom would adore, something just for her. He glanced at the dress periodically between searching hopelessly for the last ten dollars he needed to buy the dress. He only needed to find presents for one woman, his mother, and even that he couldn't do right, he thought desperately.

Just as he thought he'd have to give up, a sudden tap on his shoulder made him whirl around, only to be faced with a blur of green.

"Wha—?"

"Here. Take it."

Daisuke only had a moment to become aware of brilliant azure eyes underneath light blue hair and a small smile before it disappeared back into the crowd, leaving him with a ten dollar bill in his hands.

"But…" his words trailed off, useless since the mysterious blue-eyed boy was gone.

"Thanks…" he murmured, smiling brightly. Mom would love the dress, he was sure. He wished he could pay back the sapphire-eyed boy someday.

Satoshi smiled to himself as he made his way back to his apartment, feeling strangely happy at seeing the ruby-eyed boy's smile. Maybe there was some warmth left in Christmas yet.

* * *

Clouds of condensed breaths dissipated into the freezing temperatures of the Christmas Eve night. Even the fountain of the city park was decorated with wreaths, but thankfully no lights. That job was taken over by the park lamps and the railings, casting odd multicolored lights and shadows. The park was dotted with an intermingling amount of pine trees and bare oaks, leaves having fallen in the long forgotten days of autumn, now outlined with the glowing iridescent color of pure white snow.

The water was on the point of freezing over. Already the edges had the thin lines of frost, and another couple cold nights would bring a perfect skating rink for the people. Birds perched on the branches of the bare oaks that looked like glowing skeletons due to the Christmas lights shivered in puffballs in the dark night.

It was cold. Krad Hikari tried to will his shivering body to cease its trembling, but he was so cold… his numb body only shivered harder, and he couldn't help but watch his vision fade in and out. Here it was.

The day he would die. He'd die on Christmas Eve.

Technically, there was a place he could go. Two places. One was work—but he'd given that up. He hated being used like that, even if it was to survive. It only made him feel low and useless. Then there was the homeless shelter. But he hadn't gone in there in years, too proud to depend on other people. He'd tried to make a life for himself, but it was hard with what little he'd started out with.

It was hopeless. He didn't _want_ to go anywhere, he wanted to at least die in peace.

A few people passed him by, and even though it was Christmas Eve, none spared him a glance. It was a selfish city he lived in. He knew that. But he didn't really care, he didn't care at all at this point, whether he lived or died. In truth, it was a quicker and easier path if he just went ahead and died tonight. That way he didn't have to live through another freezing winter day.

Golden threads of hair fell into equally golden eyes, obscuring his vision, which was just fine with him, he thought as he closed his eyes. He was definitely going to die tonight… he could feel it, from the way his heart beat erratically, and his body no longer shivered, only lay there, soaking up the cold of the snow underneath him.

He wondered briefly if there was a chance of Heaven for him… no… it'd be Hell for sure.

Numbed ears never heard the soft footsteps that approached almost curiously.

Dark Mousy had never seen anyone more gorgeous. Golden hair, and he'd even caught sight of golden eyes before they'd closed over. A pale face, smoother than moonlight, lips blue in the cold. But he was all alone, and it pulled at hidden strings in the dark-haired man's heart. He'd been alone for a long time too, and somehow, he felt that there was something he could do.

He decided, right then and there, that he wanted the blonde for himself. To nurture and care, since it looked like he was homeless anyway. To save someone from the loneliness he'd experienced.

Making his way slowly over, he knelt next to the figure laying immobile on the cold ground and reached out with one hand to gently brush the golden bangs away.

"Hey…" he called softly. Slivers of gold opened to look at him in a daze.

"I didn't know… there were angels in Hell…" the soft murmur made him laugh.

"Well, I don't know about angel, but I am one sexy devil," he responded with a grin, "I don't know about Hell either, to me it seems like you're still alive and kicking."

"What do you want?" the blonde murmured weakly, attempting to dispel the heaviness of his head. Suspicion lurked like the unseen enemy it was in his brain.

"You," Dark stated simply, smiling warmly at the half unconscious blonde.

Unfortunately, Krad took it the wrong way, "You won't! Leave me alone!" he said angrily, trying to raise himself up, glaring defiantly at the violet-haired man.

"You don't have a place to go," it was a clear observation, "Do you want to come with me?"

"No…" the long-haired blonde said weakly, almost collapsing back onto the ground, but was caught by strong hands underneath him.

"Don't think you have a choice," Dark grinned, cradling the blonde into his arms, and kissing blue lips softly, "Don't worry, I'm not trying to take advantage of you. Let me help you…"

There was nothing Krad could do. Had he wanted to leave, he wouldn't have been able to, his body unresponsive and his mind clouded. Thing was, he didn't want to. Somehow, he gave in to the taller man's warm and gentle embrace and let his mind drift shut with the sight and sound of amethyst eyes whispering smooth comforts in his ears.

Dark pressed the pale, frozen body closer to himself, willing it to warm and for golden eyes to awaken again, heading with a quick, confident step back to his house. The blonde would be his, and he vowed to take care of him with everything he had. Underneath the clear night and the glowing lights and sounds of Christmas, amethyst strands of hair slipped across icy lips as a warm-hearted devil kissed a frozen-hearted angel.

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**Well, this is the first chapter of our wonderful little Christmas fic. There will be more, just because I don't know how to write one shots.**

** MERRY CHRISTMAS!!**


	2. Fate's Second Meeting

**-Squeal- Eeeek! Merry Christmas! Wow! Thanks for all your great reviews! I'm so glad you all liked it so much! MERRY CHRISTMAS! And, I actually updated when I told you guys I would- which was before Christmas-! **

**Here's the second chapter, a bit longer than the last one, so yeah, that's good. Reviewer responses at the bottom. **

**Oh, and couple of you asked if Dark and Krad knew Satoshi and Daisuke and then answer is… no. None of them know each other. But they ask if they would get to meet each other, and now that I think about it, that's a great idea! I don't know how or when, but I'm gonna see if I can do that! **

**And, some of you commented on Dark's little phrase of 'I'm not trying to take advantage of you'. Haha, I cracked up when I read that. I guess it is kinda unlike Dark to say that, but I wanted to show (in light of Christmas and all) that he could be selfless and not all about well, lust, and stuff. I don't think Dark _always_ has to be a womanizer, I think he has a nice heart… somewhere. –laughs- anyway! **

**(Oh, and this isn't the last chapter either, apparently, this is going to be another long fic… I just don't know how to do short fics… -sweatdrop-)**

**Enjoy!**

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_**Christmas Warmth**_

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"Damn…" Satoshi muttered tiredly as he slid to the ground, leaning his head back to rest against the wall, the cold snow soaking into his clothes, chilling him to the bone.

Gloved hands reached down to tenderly rub snow into his ankle, ignoring the sharp, intense pain that burned enough to make him react—not much, of course, but enough to make him clench his teeth and close his eyes out of pain. That, though, was a lot, considering it was _Satoshi_.

It was beginning to get dark, the sky fading into increasingly brilliant shades of pink and orange, which gently gave way to darker hues of purple and red. The ocean's lull calmed the azure-eyed boy, and he was glad at least the he could watch the ocean recede into low tide as he waited patiently for the pain in his twisted ankle to give way as the ice began to take effect and ease the swelling.

_What kind of a police commander slips on_ ice He thought bitterly, recalling the incident as he was walking home from work. Luckily, there'd been no one around to see, as it was Christmas Eve, and everyone was inside with their family. It'd been abnormally quiet in the station without the jokes of the incompetent officers around. Satoshi had almost missed the annoyingly loud voices that normally filtered into his office from the lobby.

His face softened into a pensive, sorrowful gaze as his mind began to null over the past couple days. The depressing Christmas season. Interestingly, it coursed with the tenacity of a buzzing bee at work to the image of a strawberry-haired boy. He shook his head, blue locks straying all over his pale face.

He kept thinking about that boy, even though he'd never met him—well, that may not have been right, for some reason, he looked familiar. In any case, it wasn't natural. He'd never talked to him, only seen him for those couple minutes the day before… Satoshi hated being confused, and so chucked the whole incident, remembrance and thoughts altogether, into the back of his mind and closed his eyes resolutely.

ÒoÕoÒoÕ

Daisuke stuck the aspirin pills his father had asked him to buy ("You know how loud your mother gets… especially during Christmas…") further into his pocket and laughed quietly. Wiz 'Kyuu-ed' suddenly from atop his head and the red-haired boy looked up.

"What's up, Wiz?"

The furry white animal only squealed again, dropping in front of Daisuke's face to point with his ears to the side.

Daisuke looked, and for a moment, only saw the receding ocean, glowing with the withdrawing rays of the setting sun, setting shadows to dance and tuck the land in deep shades. Then a spot of cerulean caught his eyes, and he hesitantly made his way over to the person sitting on the ground.

It was a boy, about his own age, the claret-eyed boy saw. He looked pale, blue hair falling limply over his face, leaned back against the wall, obscuring it. As he stepped closer, Daisuke also noticed the raised pants' leg, revealing a bruised and slightly swollen ankle coated in snow.

He looked familiar…

Ignoring the thought, Daisuke stood in front of the boy, and cleared his throat lightly.

"Um, do you need some help?"

Azure eyes flew open, body tensed, widening slightly at Daisuke's presence.

"I- No, I don't need any help."

But now it was Daisuke's turn to widen his eyes as he suddenly recognized the boy in front of him.

"It's you!"

It was the boy from yesterday. Damn irony… Satoshi could not believe his eyes, and just nodded dumbly, trying to regain his composure.

And he almost had it, too, but it was thrown to the winds once again as the smaller boy suddenly dived down, taking one of Satoshi's arms and picking him up by it, slung it over his shoulder. It was all done so swiftly, the sea-eyed police commander had no time to react, or even less, evade. He had always been in control of everything in his life, and he had always distanced himself from other people. Now, he found himself being _helped_ by someone, because he was too weak to help himself, and he was actually, physically, _touching_ someone… Those two things in themselves were enough to throw him completely out of sorts and upset the basic rules in his life—Always be in control, and never let anyone get too close. Both broken in the form of a small red-haired boy…

"No way, your ankle's twisted. Let me help you," the fire-eyed boy said determinedly, his grip on the older boy's arm tightening, "I'll help you get home, where do you live?"

Satoshi responded automatically, his mind still on previous matters, and Daisuke frowned, "My house is closer, and you need to get your ankle looked as soon as possible, so we should go there first. My family won't mind," his authoritative tone giving way to one of meekness in a complete change of character, "Um, if that's all right with you, of course."

"It's not. I can take care of myself," the indigo-eyed boy objected, finally regaining his composure and trying to inject as much coldness and distance in his voice—his only way of trying to regain some control over the situation. He then attempted to remove his arm from around Daisuke's neck and stand on his own, but the sudden crash of pain that swarmed all the way up from his ankle made him draw his breath in sharply, almost crashing back into the other boy as the pain blurred his vision. All attempts at control obliterated once again.

Daisuke was torn between amusement at the commander's pride, and concern at the pained look on his face. Concern won out over his expression, and Daisuke shook his head firmly, "See? You need some help. And I want to pay you back for helping me yesterday… it meant a lot to me…" the soft voice finished, and the injured police commander bit his lip, an internal debate raging. For the bright-eyed boy, everything was crystal-clear—he had a favor to repay, and his kind heart would never let him leave someone who needed help. He felt very much indebted to this sea-eyed boy.

Ruby eyes watched patiently as the other fought for control within himself until finally, closing weary eyes of sapphire, Satoshi let Daisuke lead him past the droning waves of the ocean's waves, and through the falling drifts of snow as the clouds overtook the darkened skies.

Satoshi lifted one eyelid open, raising an eyebrow.

"So… what is that thing on you head?"

"Kyu!"

"Er…"

* * *

Dark stirred the milk into his coffee slowly, thoughtfully, all the meanwhile gazing at the sleeping blonde in his bed from his spot beside it. The amethyst-eyed high-school student smirked to himself, loving the way that sounded- a blonde in his bed. Just sleeping there, helplessly laying there for him to—he snapped his mind out of the gutter. He had promised him that he wasn't trying to take advantage of him –he'd get permission first before ravaging the blonde angel—and it seemed that he better keep himself in control if he wanted to gain his trust, it seemed he was highly suspicious in the other's mind already.

Dark didn't blame him.

But it was true, he hadn't chosen the blonde as his One because he wanted to take advantage of him— in truth… he was still puzzled at the reason, since it was unlike him to be anything other than selfish. When he'd rescued the sun-eyed angel, all he had really wanted to do was, well, _rescue_ him. Save him, and care for him… he knew what it was like to be alone, in fact, he still felt like he was at times, and he was frankly sick of it. For once, he'd wanted to help someone out. He didn't want his angel to suffer the cruel, cold solitude he had. He wanted to care for him like he hadn't for anything else. His One.

The violet-eyed man wished he'd at least asked the golden-eyed man's name… it was irritating him to no extent to just call him 'the blonde'. Amethyst eyes blinked as the hot, searing coffee burnt his tongue and he dashed to the sink in the bathroom, wrenching the cold water on and sticking his tongue in.

"Screw…" he pouted, sucking hard on his tongue. A low moan caught his attention, and he walked back quickly to his bedside, peering at the blonde anxiously.

The blonde—Krad, though Dark didn't know, of course—shivered violently in his sleep and Dark sighed, running his hand through the silken fair locks.

Kissing pale lips lightly, he drew back the covers and eased himself in so as not to wake the angel. He guessed that he was probably exhausted. Tucking the covers tightly around him and his chosen, he wrapped his arms around the cold body and pulled it closer to himself, trying to share the warmth of his own body.

To his surprise, the smaller angel in his arms leaned into the embrace, whimpering almost inaudibly, and Dark smiled tenderly.

"I chose you… you're my One… will you stay with me?" he wondered, the whispered words falling deafly onto sleeping ears.

ÒoÕoÒoÕ

_Krad had never felt so warm… and it wasn't just physically either. There was something pleasant, light-hearted about his dreams, and he couldn't understand why. Violet tinted images, a face of a dark angel, a small, cozy room, swam in wandering circles in his head, all blurred and unrecognizable, so that Krad couldn't tell if they were memories or simply figment of his dream. _

_It was clear, though, that he felt warm and safe… and… loved… _

"_Let me help you…"_

"_I'm not trying to take advantage of you." _

"_I chose you…"_

"_My One…"_

_He didn't know where the words had come from, but each one was said in such loving, warm tones, he felt attached irreproachably to the voice. Attached like a starving child to his only source of food. _

_No one had wanted to help him. Ever. There had always been a motive behind it. Money, orders, but usually his pretty face and small body. This voice… somehow, he was assured that it wouldn't hurt him and use him the way others had before. _

_It was then and there that Krad Hikari fell in love without knowledge. It was in dark-less dreams that he fell in love with Dark. _

ÒoÕoÒoÕ

Amethyst jewels opened, glazed with sleep, and Dark twisted his head to look behind him at the clock.

Nine o'clock, Christmas morning. He yawned and turned back to his side, cradling his newfound treasure closer to himself. His treasure being, namely, the sleeping blonde.

Apparently, even that slight amount of movement was too much, for the golden-haired angel stirred, muttering incomprehensible phrases under his breath. Dark grinned and leaned in, brushing his lips over the angel's, just as golden jewels slid open.

"Merry Christmas, sleeping beauty," the violet-haired devil murmured softly as he withdrew. Sun-tinted locks fell away in messy sprawls from the angel's face as he looked on at Dark, sleepy confusion sketched deeply in his face.

"Who… are you?"

Dark chuckled at the sleep-heavy voice, and pulled the other man closer to himself, stroking silken locks softly before kissing his forehead.

"My name's Dark. Memorize it, respect it, adore it," he winked.

Memories invaded Krad's mind, and he finally remembered the night before… At death's door on that cold Christmas Eve, until he was picked up by this stranger, Dark, and apparently taken into his home.

His eyes widened suddenly as he finally realized how close in proximity he was to the other man, and that they were in a bed, and to him, that never meant anything good. But to his surprise, he saw that both of them were fully clothed.

"Don't worry. Didn't I tell you I wasn't trying to take advantage of you? I didn't even think about doing that at – well, I didn't think about it more than once, at least," the cheerful voice made him glance back up, unable to hide his surprise at the lack of greed and lust in the other's deep violet eyes.

"So, what's your name? Been dying to know," a coy smile accompanied the words.

"…Krad…" he answered softly, hesitantly.

"Beautiful…" Dark murmured, pulling Krad in again and kissing him gently. Krad stiffened, eyes wide in panic, until the taller man broke away, and Krad was surprised to see the swimming emotions in his dark eyes—concern, regret, and utter sadness.

Once again, he was drawn into the violet-haired student, but this time, it was in a more desperate embrace, closer than the others, and the sun-haired angel's body tensed once again, until Dark's low, smooth voice whispered in his ears, full of pain and need, "I chose you… you're my One… will you please stay with me?"

Without thinking, Krad nodded against Dark's shoulder, hesitantly leaning in to the embrace. For the first time, he felt needed.

* * *

**Aw! Aren't they sweet? Thanks a lot for your support and I hope you keep on reading. **

**Actually, to be truthful, I don't see why you guys liked the first chapter so much. I mean, it's odd, because I wrote… what? A three page chapter? And not that much even happened in it, but I got such positive reviews… I mean, I'm really happy, but I was just surprised. I'm always continually surprised at how much people like my stuff… which is good, since I do work hard on it. Anyway… -sweatdrop- Thanks a lot for your support, and if you have any suggestions or constructive criticism, go at it. **

**Ugh, my computer crashed, and so I'm using my grandmother's, and so I can't respond to all your wonderful reviews, but THANK YOU! I'm amazed at all the positive reviews I got, so thanks a lot. I managed to update before Christmas too!**

**MERRY CHRISTMAS! FELIZ NAVIDAD, PROSPERO AÑO Y FELICIDAD! And for those who don't celebrate Xmas, HAPPY HANNUKAH! HAPPY KWANZA! **


	3. Loving Home

**-Ducks- I know! You want to throw stuff at me because it took me so long to update! And Krad and Dark aren't even in this chapter... -sad-blinks-ducks again from angry krad/darkfans- Just bear with me! My writing bunny ran away a bit after January... and only came back for a random Legal Drug fic and Dragon Knight Snipets... oh, and a Heero/Duo shounen-ai fic and that's it-laughs- But I have been totally dead when it comes to all my other fics, this included. So sorry... At least I have the general plot for the next chapter, which will be all Krad and Dark, by the way... **

**Ugh... well, I hope you enjoy the fluff in this chapter... and angst, let's not forget the angst... **

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_Christmas Warmth: Chapter—3_

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"Okaa-san! I need help!"

"Dai-chan? What's wrong, honey?" Emiko Niwa called out, wiping her flour-covered hands on her apron, heading to the front door, and paused as she saw her son and the half-conscious blue-haired stranger leaning against him. Wiz 'kyuu'-ed and clambered off, running into the kitchen past her.

"Daisuke… what happened?"

Ruby eyes flickered for a moment towards the sapphire ones of the boy besides him, who turned them away out of embarrassment. He didn't _want_ to be helped, but he'd had little choice in the matter.

"He slipped, and twisted his ankle. Could you…?" the small, red-haired boy's voice trailed off, blinking pleadingly at his mother.

"Of course! You boys make yourself comfortable in the living room, I'll be there in a second with the first-aid kit!" she commanded them in that authoritative, almost obsessively driven style that was so Emiko's, and shooed them gently into the living room, before bustling off to the kitchen to find the presumed first-aid box.

"Now, dear, you have to keep your leg raised, so get a pillow for him, Dai-chan, and keep his foot raised," she instructed from the kitchen, finally finding the kit and hurrying back to the living room.

"Thank you, okaasan," Daisuke muttered happily, sitting next to Satoshi. He looked at the pale sapphire-eyed boy, "This is my mother, Hiwatari-kun. Okaasan, this is Hiwatari Satoshi-kun."

"It's so nice to meet you dear, now, come, lift up that leg…" to Satoshi's prideful embarrassment, he was forced to endure ten minutes of close proximity with people that he'd never met before, in this… _shameful_, weak state, being treated as casually as if he'd been a lifelong family friend. It was completely odd for him, to be suddenly thrust into this warm home, being gazed at so indiscriminately by ruby eyes, being taken _care_ of.

Trying to avoid the piercing gaze of the smaller boy besides him, Satoshi decided to keep his gaze firmly on his ankle as Emiko gently wrapped it with cold gauze.

"Well, it's not too bad, but you'll definitely have to keep off it for a while, dear," she was saying cheerfully, "I'm so glad we could help you. I'll try to hurry since I know you have to go home for Christmas Eve and all, lucky thing Daisuke had to go out, hm?"

"It's alright, you don't have to hurry for me," the tall police commander muttered awkwardly, feeling uncomfortable at all the motherly attention he was getting. Something he hadn't experienced at all from the time he was seven. Much less from someone else's mother, and it brought about conflicting feelings of nostalgia and longing. Had his mother still been alive… would she have been taking care of him as diligently? He couldn't understand why Daisuke's mother was treating him so kindly… he wasn't her son, he was a complete stranger…

They were definitely mother and son, though, he thought. Both sporting the bright, flame-tinted red hair, both with the same kind ruby jeweled eyes, eyes that didn't criticize…

Finishing up, Emiko suddenly blinked, "Oh dear, we should call your parents! Dai-chan, the phone, please?"

"There's no need," he interjected quickly.

"Of course there is! I bet your mother's worried sick!"

"I don't have a mother," Satoshi muttered quietly.

"Ah…" Emiko trailed off, blinking, before smiling sadly. Daisuke, about to get up to retrieve the phone, sat back down and bit his lip lightly, unsure of what to say. Emiko sighed, "I'm sorry, dear… But we should call your father, at least?"

"He's not home."

"Is he at work, then?" The normally exuberant red-haired mother was confused at the boy's reluctance to call his home.

"He lives somewhere else…"

"But then… who do you live with?" Emiko was thoroughly confused. And Daisuke couldn't help but note the despairing look in the taller, sea-haired boy's eyes as he spoke, gazing down at the floor, ankle still propped up delicately on the table.

"No one. I live alone. I have for a while, so it's alright."

_That hardly makes it alright,_ Daisuke thought through the shock, feeling his heart going out to the sad sapphire-eyes police commander.

"I'm so sorry, darling," Emiko murmured and dove down to embrace the young boy in a motherly hug. Satoshi stiffened tensely, unused to feeling physical warmth like this, and felt heat rising in his face. What was she doing…?

Strangely, he found himself relaxing in the hold, and for a moment, could imagine it was _his_ own mother, hugging him tightly after he'd fallen down and scraped his knee, telling him he could eat ice-cream if he stopped crying and acted like a big boy.

Daisuke watched how the ice in the other's eyes melted, a bittersweet look replacing the almost despairing one, and with a twinge of amusement noticed the steady blush on Satoshi's face. Emiko often had that effect on people, especially someone who was so unused to physical touch, as it was clear Satoshi was.

Emiko withdrew, smiling at the blue-haired boy, "Hiwatari-kun, do you have any plans for tonight?" she glanced at Daisuke.

Daisuke knew where this was going and brightened, grinning widely at Satoshi, "Yeah! If you're not doing anything, you can spend Christmas Eve with us!"

The young police commander looked dumbfounded for a couple seconds before speaking, "A-Are you sure? I wouldn't want to be a burden… and I'm not part of your family…"

"No one minds," the strawberry-haired boy smiled.

"Any one in this house can consider themselves part of the family," Emiko said firmly, winking at Satoshi, "Stay, it'll be fun! We can play games, and have a big dinner and you can even spend the night!"

"Please?"

Daisuke's pleading tone and sparkling ruby jewels made a distinct impression on him, and Satoshi suddenly understood what 'puppy eyes' were. The tall boy nodded before he had any idea what was going on. Daisuke cheered and Emiko clapped her hands together, squealing and hugging Satoshi briefly before going back to the kitchen, waving at them.

"I have to finish cooking dinner, it'll be ready in an hour or two! Make yourself at home, dear."

Both boys nodded, before being left in silence. Satoshi fidgeted uncomfortably; unaware of the curious look he was receiving from the red-haired boy next to him.

"Does it hurt a lot still?" Daisuke asked. Satoshi shook his head.

"Not that much…"

"You know, you can sleep until dinner's ready if you're tired. You look it," the smaller boy pointed out as Satoshi began to protest that he was fine, "I have to finish wrapping okaa-san's present anyway, so you can take a nap meanwhile."

Daisuke stood, "I'll be back in a sec, I just have to finish wrapping it."

So saying, he took off, running up the stairs, leaving Satoshi sitting on the couch.

Now that he was alone, he could let the weariness of the past couple days show, although apparently he hadn't hidden it well enough in the first place. Laying his head back, he let himself study the cozy living room in more detail.

The fireplace was burning merrily, the longs glowing as fire licked them clean of their existence and showered the bright living room in warmth. Though they apparently didn't make much of it, the Niwa's were clearly well off, what with the large house and lavish decorations. Cozy couches with fluffed pillows and burnished wood tables decorated the stylish living room, dotted with green and red ribbons and garlands and gold bells. The Christmas tree towered in the tallest corner of the room, laden with presents and decorations, looking like the kind that appeared in photos of the perfect Christmas. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Picture frames littered the room, and the one nearest caught his attention.

A small 'kyuu' made him turn his head around to face a furry white animal and he jumped back, startled.

"Oh… it's you… Wiz, was it?" he muttered, lifting an eyebrow as the bunny-like pet made another happy noise, leaping into Satoshi's lap and snuggling itself against the taller boy. Satoshi blinked out of surprised before tentatively petting its head. A small, continuous squeak came from Wiz as it leaned into the petting.

"They seem like a really nice family," he murmured to the pleased animal in his lap. He leaned his head against the couch, feeling oddly at comfort, and realized that he really was quite tired. He studied the picture frame nearest to him with interest, and not without a visible amount of wistfulness. It was incredible how homesick he could feel for a family he barely remembered.

Daisuke's family apparently consisted of himself, Emiko, and a dark-haired man, placing a hand on his son's shoulder as he was squeezed tightly by his exuberant wife in the picture. Next to them also, was an old man, white hair and beard making it impossible to tell whose father he was, until you looked at the bright red eyes, and it was then clear he was Daisuke's grandfather from his mother's side. All four were smiling, and even Wiz, sitting atop the crimson-eyed boy's head, looked content. The perfect family, Satoshi thought almost enviously. A nice warm family…

ÒoÕoÒoÕ

Daisuke finished wrapping his present with a snip of his scissors and gazed at his work happily. Placing his father's, ojii-chan's and Wiz's presents atop the box that held the carefully folded blue dress, he picked the four packets up and balanced them out of his room and down the stairs.

Laying them under the tree, he turned with a smile to look at the blue-haired boy on his couch.

"Sorry I took so— Eh?" he blinked. A moment later, a soft smile spread over his face as he saw that the young police commander had fallen asleep, head falling limply to the side, azure hair sprawled messily over his worn face. His smile widened again as he noted Wiz taking his nap as well on the boy's lap.

On impulse, he reached out and touched the taller's boy's cheek briefly, withdrawing it as he realized what he was doing and blushing a bit.

This was going to be a different Christmas… for the both of them, Daisuke was sure.

* * *

**You won't kill me too bad, will you? **

**Anyway... the next chapter ... will be... kida odd. A whole lot of angst, and some of you might be a bit freaked out... but there'll be fluff to balance it out. It'll be all Krad and Dark for those who missed them this chapter.**

**Oh, and a lot of you guys asked about having all of them meet each other, and I think i'll take that advice and do that eventually. No reviewer responses cause there were WAY too many reviews... -happy about that- **

**Oh, by the way, yeah, I had just read Legal Drug when I wrote this... so i think the idea of Krad beign picked up by Dark kinda filtered in like that... -laughs- And Krad's job... well, I wanted to imply he was kind of a ... prostitute type thing... not willingly, of course, but living in the streets, and him beign as gorgeous as he is, you'd kinda expect that to happen anyway... Oh, and I decided that Dark is now... 18 and Krad is 17. Dai and Sato are 14. That'll come into play later, the age thing... **

**Review! Hope you liked-thinks- this is hardly a Xmas anymore... **


	4. Revealed

**:Laughs nervously: I know some of you want to shoot me for taking so long... and some of you will _want_ to shoot me by the end of this chapter. Quick warning: Any of you who were cooing about how cute/sweet/innocent this is? You might get a surprise in the end. And it's angst ridden everywhere, but I'm sure that was obvious. On the plus side, aside from the darker moments that this fic will go through, there's plenty of fluff planned too, so don't get scared off. On and this is unbeta'd and I suck at editing my fics (mostly cause I'm too lazy to read over pages of stuff after stressing over writing it)**

**Anoooother thing... I came up with some pretty cool ideas about how they're going to meet, and who already knows who. Not telling though, cause that'd give it away. :grins: **

**Sorry for the belatedness, but ENJOY! **

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**

Christmas Warmth- Chapter 4

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ÒoÕoÒoÕ

_Christmas day, huh… _Dark thought lazily, gazing at the ceiling as he placed his arm on his forehead. His other arm lay underneath Krad's sleeping body next to him, hand reaching up to stroke his back, mechanically swishing back and forth over the smooth skin, displacing golden silk that periodically entangled itself in his fingers.

He figured he should get up, they'd fallen asleep again after that brief awakening earlier, but it was comfortable, and the gray, monotone skies outside his window, flurries of snow trailing indolently behind the glass, was making him feel lazy. There was a warm body next to him, and foreshadowing of unrest, and he felt like bed was safe.

Glancing at the clock, though, the neon green mechanically admonished that it was early into the afternoon. One o'clock, to be exact. He'd always been a late riser as it was… he turned his head to look at Krad, then turned onto his side so he could wrap his other arm around him as well.

_Hm, I thought he was a light sleeper? _The violet-haired man brushed his fingers gently across the velvet lips of his One and smiled to himself, only to have it vanish. _Or maybe he's exhausted from being in the cold… _He didn't know how long Krad had been out in the streets before Dark had found him. Placing a large hand on the moonlight-pale cheek, he was glad to see that his temperature had risen from that dangerously low one he'd had the night before. His complexion had lost that sickly pallor too, thought it was obvious he didn't go out in the sun much. Unlike the amethyst-eyed man himself, whose skin was richly tanned, even in the midst of winter.

Yawning largely, narrow pupils slitting even more so that it gave the overall image of a yawning feline, Dark carefully removed his arms from around his blonde and eased himself off the bed.

He dressed himself in black, a sweater with a baggy neck and leather pants, before brushing his teeth and fixing his hair, brushing mussed, untamed strands of deep violet into _presentable_ untamed strands of deep violet. Yes, there was a difference. The coffee pot gurgled and fizzed from the small apartment's kitchen, and Dark poured himself a cup with all the grace of a tap-dancing gorilla. Several napkins were wasted in the process of clearing up the mess. The bitter liquid swirled like molten amber contained in ebony porcelain, steaming visibly. Without anything more than a little cream, the violet-haired kaitou sipped it, staring contemplatively out into equally bitter streets. Snow poured from the heavens to entangle and suffocate the city in white, giving the sinful place an innocence it only received in winter. Many would have said that was a cruel description, that the snow blanketed the city, making it radiate in beauty…

But he knew better than to let the snow deceive him…

He didn't know when the golden-haired man would wake, but it didn't make a difference to him. In truth, he wanted nothing more than for the world to freeze, for everything to stay calm and quiet—he had a feeling things would be stirred up quickly around here once his guest woke, that there would be a trial for them to go through… But then again, he didn't want to stay alone for the rest of eternity. The sooner his One would wake, the sooner Dark could take steps to get to know him better… and if he didn't screw up, maybe he wouldn't have to be alone anymore.

There wasn't much on TV that he really felt like watching. Cartoons, movies, things that _really_ shouldn't be watched on Christmas, and Season-oriented programs flickered for a couple seconds on the constantly changing screen, before they were promptly replaced by another program.

Channel surfing was kinda like life, he mused. You became interested in something, so you stuck around it for a while—as soon as you lost interest, if was quickly replaced by something else. Yeah, that was life in a nutshell. He knew from bitter experience. The coffee swished around in his mouth, the taste becoming unpleasant suddenly, and Dark swallowed.

Presently though, the clock struck three, and Dark reluctantly got off from his comfy beanbag chair –his favorite—to stretch and make his way back into the bedroom.

He was surprised Krad was still asleep, but the dark-haired man figured he was exhausted. He sure looked it, pale features and a gaunt body, faint shadows under his eyes. His eyes narrowed at just _how_ thin he was… well, he'd fix that. Amethysts deeper than night softened as he gently stroked those threads of liquid gold, relishing in the smoothness, and bent down to kiss his cheek, tucking the covers more securely around him. Krad tossed his head in his sleep, snuggling deeper into the covers. _God, he's so cute,_ Dark grinned.

Going back into the kitchen, he prepared a quick meal of pasta, leaving the noodles sitting in a ceramic bowl in the microwave, covered in plastic. In the fridge, the sauce and sodas were put in open view, and a plate and utensils set out on the table for later use. Glancing around, he also decided to collect the various plates and glasses strewn around the table and deposit them in the sink to procrastinate washing for another week.

The black coat hanging on the rack was taken off and promptly donned. Around his neck hung a camera, and in his pockets, a notebook and pen, as well as extra film.

The door clicked shut, the sound followed by the soft _tick_ of the locks turning.

ÒoÕoÒoÕ

The air was warm, and for a long time, Krad felt simply as if he were floating, buoyed in warmth that enveloped him like a liquid blanket, gently suffocating…

He was aware of a dull headache, a strained ache in his body, and the hollowness of hunger, but those were normal by his standards, so he didn't pay them any mind. No, it was warm, and comfortable, and he felt… content.

The remnants of his dream were still tugging at his mind. There was a deep drowsiness that was keeping him from becoming fully conscious, but already he was starting to realize that there was something missing, something different than the last time he'd woken up…

It only took a second after opening his eyes and shifting lightly to realize what it was.

He was surprised for a moment, and a bit of him was relieved, after all, he was still uncomfortable to waking up next to someone kissing him… as tenderly as he had… Krad didn't realize that he'd unconsciously raised his hands to his lips until the tingling sensation of his fingertips danced across them.

He couldn't understand it, the cruelty and being ignored he could deal with—was accustomed to deal with—it meant no attachments, it meant he could forget the night, and it meant he'd get food for another day.

But… tenderness… and… dare he say it? Love? He didn't know how to react to those. Was he supposed to take it, or respond… no one he'd met before had ever been _loving_ to him. In that sense, the orphanage had been a better place, he'd had someone who cared for him. But after he'd left, there hadn't been much of a reason for the golden-haired angel to remain.

What surprised him the most, and maybe unsettled him a bit too, was that even though a bit of him was relieved that the dark-haired man wasn't around, the majority of him had been… frightened. For a moment, he'd been frightened at waking up alone, without him.

Now, that feeling had washed out into an emptiness that seemed to weight down the room as Krad looked about it. The snow was still falling on flurried hordes outside, and the room lay empty and quiet, blurry shadows spreading and ebbing with the change in lighting outside. The lights were turned off, and he could see that the room was lived in, stylish and decorated with modern designs and ornaments. The one offset to the room was the whirlwind mess. If there was one materialistic thing Krad could not stand above all, it was dirt and disarray. It sounded highly ironic for someone who lived in the unsightly streets, but it had always disgusted the golden-haired ice angel.

Ignoring the mess of clothes, papers, miscellaneous objects and photography magazines, Krad looked around. There were photographs framed around the room, and a variety of cameras hanging on racks. Stacks of paper and a computer with a half-written document flashing on the screen sat atop a desk littered with photos. He definitely like photography. Continuing his examination around the strange room, he noticed that the door had been left open. Krad tried to find any presence of life around him, but there were no sounds, no lights, no movement. Empty

Where was he? Had he abandoned him after all? It was deathly still, the only sound permeating the unmoving calm being his soft breathing. He frowned, tugging the blankets closer to himself, wondering if he should just go back to bed, trying to ignore the heaviness settling itself in the pit of his stomach. Where was Dark?

_I don't care, I don't care at all_, he began repeating in his mind, but nonetheless he'd glanced anxiously around the room one more time, as if maybe he'd find him hiding behind thin air, and a flash of color had caught his eyes. On the bedside table, outlined in bright neon green, and written in orange, lay a note scribbled in slippery handwriting—

_Dear cutie sleeping on the bed (you, in case you didn't know),_

_Merry Christmas again! Hey, sorry to leave ya like that, but I have a job at the Civic Center today—gotta watch a Christmas play my college buds are putting on and write an article on it for the newspaper. I'll be back around seven, so if you're hungry, there's pasta in the mic. Sauce and drinks are in the fridge- Eat lots, you're skinnier than a stick T.T/ (crying sign). After that, make yourself at home._

_Lots and lots of love,_

_The ever-incredibly handsome and awesome Dark ;)_

Krad had the feeling that he'd had a lot of fun writing this thing. Of course, the doodles in multicolored pens sprawled all over the paper didn't help with that assumption at all.

Nonetheless he sighed, all feelings of apprehension and loneliness ebbing away. He snuggled deeper into the bed, trying to decide whether he should get up or not. It was five, only two more hours 'til he got home. But the calling of food was stronger, so he raised himself out of bed once more.

It wasn't until he actually tried _stepping_ out of bed that he realized how weak his body had become. After nearly buckling to the floor, leaving him breathing heavily as he hung onto the edge of the bed, frowning at his weakness, he realized that maybe it would have been better to wait for Dark.

He was hungry _now_, though, and there was some perverse instinct in him that wanted for him to do this on his own, without help. He'd been in worse situations before, and had managed to get out of them on his own. And anyway, he thought cynically, it probably wouldn't be long until he was thrown out into the streets again. No one in their right mind would take in a homeless person without good reason, and if Krad didn't like that reason, he wouldn't hesitate to leave.

_I don't need him…_ he thought, his sun-tinted gaze straying to the window. So why did it feel like he did?

Krad had never been much of a dreamer, as reality was always too clear in his mind to let his dreams fly where he wanted them to. But it felt like a dream. He was in a warm house, out of the cold streets, stuffing himself until he was sure he'd throw up. Of course, that wasn't hard to do, as halfway through the plate of spaghetti he'd felt full. That was, after all, more than he'd normally eat in one day.

Golden eyes were drifting shut, arms crossed on the tabletop, when he realized that a bed was infinitely more comfortable than a table. So, raising himself on unsteady legs, and ignoring the dizziness buzzing in his head, he headed back down the hallway.

Framed photos lined the hallway too, and Krad paused to gaze at one that caught his attention. It was abstract, and it took him a moment to realize that it was the dark silhouette of branches against the hazy salmon color of sunset clouds. On the bottom corner in a scribble that looked vaguely familiar, Krad finally made out two words—Dark Mousy.

_So that's his full name._ Then the larger shock hit him, _He took all of these pictures!_ He walked on with renewed interest in the pictures he was passing, surprised that the professional-looking shots had been taken by the slightly scatterbrained-acting kaitou.

He was more than a little impressed by the time he reached the room, taking the liberty of inspecting each picture with awe showing in the ginger touch he bestowed on the frames as he carefully reached out to touch them. Krad took another look at the note the Dark had left. _'Write an article for the paper?_ Krad wondered if he was a journalist. Definitely a photographer, if nothing else.

He was beginning to get tired, and standing up for so long had made him worn-out, the heaviness in his stomach making him feel slightly sick. Turning on one foot with the intent of getting back in bed, he instead slipped on one of the magazines laying on the floor. Tipping forward, he landed with a thump on the floor, leaving him light-headed as he gazed at the ceiling from a new point of view.

_Messy idiot,_ was the first thought that entered his buzzing head as he sat up, gasping light for breath that had been knocked out of him, rubbing his arm where he'd fallen on it. But then he blinked, his brow furrowing slightly as he caught sight of a black box underneath the bed. There were other boxes there, but they were all white, and labeled, while this one sat in the corner, obscured.

He wouldn't have caught sight of it if it hadn't been for the fact that there was a ray of light shining on it, reflected from a CD that lay on the floor, reflecting the window light onto the dark corner.

Curiosity got the better of him, as well as the urge to see more of Dark's work. Reaching out underneath the bed, he gently took the box, sitting back and cradling it in his lap. He was about to open it, but suddenly hesitated at the tug of apprehension that made him question his actions.

Dark had said to make himself at home, he thought, but knew that wasn't a good enough reason too snoop in his things, especially one that he seemed to want to keep out of the way as much as possible. Still, if it really was something that private, Dark would have made sure to hide it in a better place. Here, it seemed like he'd intentionally put it there so that there would be easy access to it.

Curiosity finally got the better of him, and he opened the box, a light 'puff' of dust floating up, dislodged into the air. The light-haired angel wrinkled his nose in distasted, waving it aside and looking inside.

Pictures. A huge stack. No harm there, so far. He took the first one out, noting with surprise that it wasn't good at all. In fact, it should have been thrown away- it was a faded out picture of the sun, and the whole picture was practically blinded by the sun's rays, so that it was swallowed up by white. It had an amateurish feel to it. Like a five-year-old had taken it. The reason clicked as he looked at the date and noted, that indeed, it'd been taken fifteen years ago.

That made him wonder how old Dark was, exactly. If he was in college, that meant he was at least eighteen… so he'd taken this picture when he was at least three.

The next picture was a badly focused photograph of a beautiful lady. She was smiling and waving, and though her eyes were deep green, they held a familiar mischievous glint, and Krad recognized the shoulder length violet hair. His mother…

Next was a man, whom Krad automatically assumed was the father, and upon closer inspection, found the telling trait- his eyes. Deep amethysts, and similar face structure. Krad studied him closer for a moment, trying to figure out why it was that he didn't seem as taken by the father as he had by the mother. There was something off about him, something he could instinctively tell. He felt slightly guilty though, judging Dark's family simply by looks.

Flipping carefully through the stacks of pictures, he saw that little by little, the photos became better and more creative. One he particularly liked was a picture of the sunset taken from a high altitude, overlooking a valley. But there were pictures everywhere, of school, home, in the streets and at parties, on what appeared to be their backyard by the amount of shots taken there. Looking at the dates, he saw that he was ten. _He took cameras everywhere…_ the sun-eyed angel thought amusedly.

As he went on, though, the shots began to turn increasingly obscure and depressing, and Krad repressed a small shudder. There was something morbid, chillingly macabre about them, and they'd become incredibly abstract and disturbing. It started out with pictures of the night, shadows and shapes, which hadn't been all that odd, but it had continued. Squashed insects, broken glass, contrasting forms and colors, fallen trees. Shots that would have been normal and relaxing if not for the irregular angles they were taken at. Krad felt a sense of desolation and pain from them… a trail of apprehension began coiling and uncoiling in his stomach. He frowned deeply at the shot of road kill, a small bird with its body violently ruptured, blood and internal organs gruesomely strewn on the concrete, golden eyes shying away quickly.

From then on, it was as if Dark had grown a fascination with blood and broken images, and Krad realized that he'd begun trembling. It was… disconcerting, to say the least, to image the cheerful, cocky man he'd seen… and relate them to the appalling pictures he was now looking at. The window now provided barely enough light to illuminate the room, and the shadows were constantly pressing into areas before bathed in the weak sunlight that filtered through the snowy clouds, suffocating the light.

Something else he'd suddenly noticed was the lack of people. Where before his pictures had overflowed with people- family, friends, himself and even strangers, now they lay empty of life. For almost three years, Krad hadn't seen anything living in the photographs. Almost as if… he was alone.

He'd begun flipping through the pictures rather quickly, as they had become grotesque and bizarre, and he didn't know if he could stomach it. But the same thing that repulsed him transfixed him, like moths to fire, innocently edging closer without knowledge of the heat that would burn. There was an odd sense of disgusted curiosity pressing him on, as if wanting to see how far this odd change would go. What was stranger was that the pictures he had admired today, though some lonely and dark, hadn't been close to this extent. So whatever had happened to make a child take photographs like these had obviously ceased, but how far had it gone?

There was a trail of fear now making its way around his neck, slithering its poisonous essence slowly, whispering darkly into his ear. The apprehension that had been writhing in his stomach had now made its way into his throat, a nest of fear enclosing itself on him. His hand shook as he took the next picture out, and golden eyes widened, his hand flying to his mouth as he felt his stomach constrict nauseatingly after a moment of staring at it in shock.

The picture slipped from his shaking hand, floating with deceptive innocence onto the floor, where a bright patch of light was able to better illuminate the vivid details. A dark room, lit up in the middle, where something lay on the wooden floor. A body, lying in a puddle of dark liquid. Blood. And as Krad leaned forward, fighting down his nausea, he could make out the disfigured face, and the familiar shock of shoulder-length violet hair, tangled and sticky with blood. In the photo, the moonlight shone on the misshapen, beaten body, limbs twisted in macabre positions, broken and mangled. The ice angel couldn't tear his eyes off, his eyes wide and unbelieving.

_He… he took a picture of his dead mother…_ Krad's mind raced around nothing, not able to comprehend how a child- he'd only been thirteen- could find his mother's dead body and take a picture. There was something about that… that wasn't right. Krad wasn't unused to death, or to the misshapen, but it was by avoiding it that he had been able to become indifferent to it. This was completely the opposite… How… how had he been able to stand there and take a picture like it was nothing?

Warm breath suddenly crept around Krad's neck, and he froze as a low voice whispered dangerously in his ear, "You weren't supposed to see that."

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:Cowers: Weeeeeell... how are we on the shooting bussiness? Horrible cliffhanger, I know :evil grin:

Anyway, thanks for all the reviews, great support and complements! I'm glad it's liked. Next chapter will be Satoshi/Daisuke, but if it turns out short, I just might stick the Krad/Dark chapter in there too. Hm... It'd be a good idea to stick this under story alert, or whatever, since my updating is so... spaced out and random.


	5. Unpleasant Surprise

**...Um, at least it's before Christmas, right? Gawd, this is pathetic, 4 chapters in one year :sweatdrop: **

**Merry Christmas, and anything else you practice! **

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ÕoÖoÔoÖ **_Christmas Warmth _**ÕoÖoÔoÖ

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Satoshi stirred and yawned largely, rubbing his eyes vigorously to free them from sleep. Blinking owlishly, he sat up slowly, gazing at his surroundings with his head tilted to the side. An abrupt 'kyuu!' resounded from his lap as something stirred on it, and he started out of surprise. Wiz stared at him from below, jeweled eyes gleaming, and Satoshi chuckled at himself for having been surprised by it.

_That's right_, he thought. He was at the Niwas', Courtesy of his sprained ankle, Daisuke, and Fortune's odd workings. The couch was comfortable, and he sat there for a while longer, watching the unfamiliar surroundings. The whole house smelled strongly of… Christmas. That was the best way to describe it. The Christmas tree in the corner sent the scent of pine to linger around the living room, joined by the cinnamon smell of different ornaments, and the various aromas of the candles that adorned the lavish living room. Now however, there was one added scent wafting throughout the house- dinner. His stomach began rumbling expectantly, the rich warm smell of turkey and mashed potatoes, and a variety of other things he'd never be able to pick out by smell alone.

Wiz apparently had decided that he'd had enough of Satoshi's lap, no matter how comfortable it'd been, and squealed shortly before clambering off. The blue-haired commander watched it jump on the couch opposite of his, sapphires following the small white furball as it snuggled against the body sleeping on it.

Red hair falling onto peach skin closed over shining rubies, a pencil and sketchpad lying limply in his hands as his head tilted to the side to lie on the armrest… Daisuke had fallen asleep, and Satoshi thought the scene looked…well, he wasn't sure how to describe the peaceful warmth he felt, in fact, he hadn't been able to at all since he'd walked into this house. He was sure it had something to with the boy slumbering quietly opposite of him, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. Neither could he on _why_ he couldn't tear his eyes away from him, why his sight seemed to linger on the vibrant red hair, the small kind hands that had held him up earlier, the cheerful voice that had been lined with something darker underneath, but nonetheless had awakened feelings inside him that he hadn't felt since he'd been a little kid. Somehow, Daisuke was melting the ice that Satoshi had built around himself.

"Have a good nap?"

Satoshi jumped, startled out of his reverie. He looked up hurriedly to find a tall, dark-haired man with gentle coal-black eyes smiling at him. He blushed, the faint pink contrasting with the blue of his eyes and hair, as he realized that he'd been caught staring at Daisuke.

"Um, yeah," he stammered.

"I'm Niwa Kosuke, Daisuke's father. I presume you're Hiwatari Satoshi?" the man held out his hand, as opposed to bowing. The American gesture threw him off for a moment, but he followed suit quickly and held out his hand as well. He could sense the same kind of tame gentleness and perception of emotion that emanated from Daisuke from his father, whence his cheerful optimism and looks were clearly his mother's.

"Emiko's about to serve the food, so she'll be calling you boys soon," he said amiably, and Satoshi felt at ease with him. He felt no threat, no overbearing presence from this man, only humble wisdom and a fatherly tone.

Kosuke leaned over his son, placing his hand on the boy's forehead. Daisuke stirred, opening half-lidded eyes to look up at his father.

"Otou-san?"

Kosuke furrowed his brow, "You feel a little warm, are you feeling alright?"

Daisuke caught Satoshi looking on curiously at them and hurriedly looked away, batting his father's arm away, "Yeah, I'm totally fine," he jumped up from the couch, waving his arms energetically, "See?"

Kosuke watched him for a moment, his gaze flickering towards the commander, "I see," he smiled apologetically, "I'm sorry, I was just making sure the cold doesn't get anyone sick. It's going to snow heavily tonight, seems like."

"More snow?" the red-haired boy looked thoughtful, and Satoshi was surprised to see a tinge of sadness glaze his eyes. It was gone as Daisuke raised his eyes to look at Satoshi, but he was sure he'd seen it. It troubled him, and it was further troubling to realize that someone else's sadness bothered him.

"I'm really happy this Christmas we'll have snow. Last year there wasn't any, and I was afraid this year we wouldn't either. But it's been snowing a lot, hasn't it?"

"Just for you," Kosuke smiled, and Daisuke returned the gesture before turning to Satoshi.

"Is your foot feeling any better?" the flame-haired boy asked, setting aside his sketchpad on the table.

"A little," he tried to shift his foot, but it was still rather painful, and he winced. They both looked up as Emiko walked in the doorway, apron gone and a serving spoon in her hands.

"Dinner's ready boys!" she beamed, "I made lots of good stuff, there's the turkey of course, and pork, and baked potatoes, and vegetable stir-fry, and pie and a chocolate cake for dessert—"

"Sounds delicious, honey," Kosuke pecked her lips lovingly, and she sighed happily. Satoshi was unable to hide the surprise and curiosity at watching the loving parents.

"You do realize we're standing under mistletoe, right?" she nudged his chest teasingly. Her husband blinked and looked up to find the pointy green and red plant hanging above.

"I've never been one to defy tradition, have I?" he smiled and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her waist as she leaned up to twirl her fingers in his dark hair. Satoshi blushed and looked away, and Daisuke caught his motion and laughed, scratching his head embarrassedly.

"Well, it's cause it's Christmas and all, you know?"

Satoshi glanced back, unable to hide the twitching of the corner of his lips, "They act like teenagers."

Emiko broke away from Kosuke, placing her hands on her hips, "And how old do you think we are, hm? I bet you can't tell I'm older than twenty. Are you saying we're old?"

Satoshi gulped and held his hands up defensively, "Of course not, ma'am, I didn't mean to sound rude. I—"

Daisuke and his father laughed at Satoshi's discomfort and embarrassment, and Emiko's indignant pride.

"You're just as beautiful as when I met you, honey," Kosuke smiled, drawing his wife back into his arms, "He didn't mean it like that."

Emiko pouted and marched into the kitchen, stating clearly, "I still fit in my high-school uniform, I can act like a teenager all I want."

Kosuke followed her, laughing under his breath. Daisuke and Satoshi looked at each other.

"Boys!"

"Coming!"

The blue-haired boy struggled up on one leg, feeling kind of ridiculous at the prospect of hopping on one foot all the way to the kitchen table—it sounded so weird, he'd never been over at another boy's house, now that he thought about it. And he'd never eaten dinner at a kitchen table either, he was used to eating on the couch as he mindlessly watched the news, or as he walked home from the police station.

"You need some help?" the sparkling rubies were accompanied by a slightly cocky grin, as Daisuke clearly found the commander's pride and the barely hidden sulk at having to nod a yes utterly amusing. An arm was wrapped around his shoulder to hoist him up.

"Daisuke, are you sure you don't want me to help him?" Kosuke's face was wrinkled with fatherly worry, but Satoshi wondered why.

"'Tou-san, I'm fine. I don't need any help," Daisuke said patiently, but there was an almost exasperated thread underneath.

"But… ah, I guess so…" the dark-haired man seemed to give up the futile endeavor, whatever it had been, and stepped into the kitchen, where the two boys followed him.

Satoshi gaped at the amount of food on the table. It had to be even more lavish than anything he'd ever read about in a book, or seen on TV on those stereotypical holiday commercials with the perfect, smiling family enjoying a perfect dinner where nothing went wrong. The huge turkey plopped on the middle of the table, decorated in evergreens and gleaming with moisture and rich brown sauce. The smell was tantalizing, tickling every horizon of his senses, the rich smell of meat with the barely discernible sharp scent of mint, and the tangy waft of orange marmalade sauce. Mashed potatoes and gravy were next in the line-up, along with a bowl of salad heaped high with all sorts of greens and fruits. Pudding and cherry pie, as well as a small chocolate fondue predetermined the dessert.

"Wow Mom, it looks so good!"

"This is great honey."

"Oi, oi, don't let her get all the credit, I helped out too."

Satoshi took notice of the old man sitting already sitting at the table, and recognized him from the family photo he'd seen in the living room.

"Ah, Satoshi-kun, this is my grandfather," Daisuke introduced him.

Satoshi's first reflex was to bow, but his current position, being held up Daisuke, made it rather difficult. The old man, Daiki, smiled in that disarming way older people often had, completely unassuming but very much aware.

"Time to eat!" Emiko squealed, clapping her hands excitedly. Motioning for everyone to seat, she began serving the food, "Now, you do eat meat, right?"

Satoshi blinked and nodded, but Daisuke's grandfather groaned, "Emiko, you're not going to start again with this, are you?"

The red-haired boy sitting next to Satoshi leaned over to whisper in his ear, "Mother asks this every time a guest comes over for dinner, because-"

Emiko's voice cut across the dinner table, as Kosuke and his father-in-law both sweatdropped, "When I was a little girl, I brought a friend over for dinner. And she was a vegetarion. And you know what 'Tou-san did? He served meat to her! And we tried to tell him over and over again, but he practically _forced_ poor Miki-chan to eat it! She was almost about to cry when your Grandfather finally realized it! It was horrible, she never came back to our house again! The poor—"

"Just serve the food already…" Daiki interrupted hurriedly. Emiko sniffed indignantly, but proceeded.

Satoshi chuckled under his breath. They were such a comfortable family. He figured most families were like that, but as he spent all of his life either at work or home alone, he didn't really get much of a chance to see families interacting.

Satoshi tried to remain quiet most of the meal, listening to the other talking and laughing, mostly out of a mix of politeness and shyness. Well, and that he wasn't a talker, but that was a given. It was in vain, however, as the family was eager to include him in their conversations, and he was surprised to find that he was easily coerced into talking a lot. This was probably the most he'd ever talked to anyone, other than at school during lengthy oral reports. It was downright odd, but he found, once again with surprise, that he didn't mind sharing a lot of things about himself that before he'd never even thought of telling anyone. He'd finish saying something, feel like an idiot for spilling something that was probably rather stupid, but would then find that everyone was listening intently, no judgment or scorn in their eyes, and the feeling would ebb away.

"Hey, Satoshi-kun, what school do you go to?" Daisuke bit a piece of buttered bread, the melted butter glistening on his lips, and that, coupled with the tug-and-bend of his lips as he chewed had the odd power to hold Satoshi's rapt attention.

"Ah…" he blinked and tore his eyes away from the red-haired boy, who took a napkin to wipe his mouth, oblivious, "Azumano Middle."

Daisuke's eyes widened, "No way! That's where I go!"

"Really?' Satoshi stared, as something clicked, "Wait… then you're… the artist!"

No wonder his name had seemed familiar, and even his face. How many times had Satoshi not heard the name mentioned for various awards in art? Satoshi, being an art enthusiast himself, and not a bad painter either, had been admiring Daisuke's works for _years_, but had never paid the creator's name much heed, thinking him to be in a lower class after seeing him from a distance one afternoon in the art room.

For his part, Daisuke too was shocked, "So then you're the one who gets the top scores in all the tests! I hear you graduated college too!"

"Wow, isn't that a funny coincidence?" Emiko squealed, watching the two bewildered boys.

"What class are you in?"

"9-A."

'That's why we haven't seen each other much, I'm in 9-B," Satoshi smiled. Daisuke beamed.

"This is great! This means we can see each other in school now!"

The commander found his enthusiasm amusing, but nonetheless felt excited himself too. The conversation quickly moved onto teachers and school subjects, and art, as it was something both boys enjoyed.

"I'm so glad we get a break from school though, you know? It's fun and all, but during break I can see my friends every day. Takeshi was supposed to come over yesterday, but he found a new scoop to report," Daisuke spoke animatedly. Satoshi knew who Takeshi Saehara was, his father was one of his employees, after all, and the commander had seen him snooping around the crime scenes trying to find a hot story.

"Speaking about people who were supposed to come over…" Kosuke interrupted, looking at his wife, "Is he going to come? It's a bit late, but we could give him a call."

"Yeah, 'Kaa-san, I thought he said he'd come?" Daisuke piped in.

Emiko shook her head, sighing, "That boy. I called in earlier, and he said he'd think about it. And when I called right before dinner, he didn't answer the phone. Really, he knows how important this is to us…" she spoke reprovingly, but her words were kind and sympathetic, "But don't blame him, Dai-chan, Christmas is just a hard time for him, as you know. He promised he'd come for New Year's though, and he better stick to that!" her voice had risen from a worried tone to an almost threatening one, and the table laughed.

Satoshi wondered who they were talking about, but figured it was none of his business and didn't ask. Daisuke seemed slightly disappointed at the news that whoever it was wasn't coming, and the rest of the meal was passed by in small talk and pleasant exchanges. By the end of the meal, Satoshi's plate, which had been piled high with all sorts of food, lay empty, and he, stuffed.

"Here, I'll take your plate since you can't walk," the ruby-eyed boy offered, and Satoshi thanked him, handing over the empty plate once dinner had finished and the table was being cleared.

The blue-haired boy concentrated on the task of getting out of the chair and on his feet with his twisted ankle. There was a sudden, startling crash, and his attention, along with that of the adults, turned toward the source.

Daisuke's hand clutched the countertop for support so tightly his knuckles had turned a pale grey, only a couple shades paler than his face. The glass on the floor had broken, but no one paid any attention to that as the fire-headed boy swayed in his spot. Alarmed, Satoshi's first impulse was to dash forward, but the sharp pain that gnashed at his leg made him crumble back into the chair with a hiss. Kosuke beat him to it, rushing to support his son, and Emiko muttered a short 'oh no,' before turning to dig through the drawers in search of something.

Feebly fighting away his father's hands, the red-haired boy sat down, his eyes slightly glazed. His mouth opened and closed several times, and short sounds came out, but no coherent words. Satoshi felt out of place, and very uneasy, unable to do anything more than watch. This wasn't something he was supposed to see, or that Daisuke wanted him to see, he was sure. He felt like he was intruding on something he shouldn't have, and didn't even have the courage to speak up and ask if he was alright, as his parents had already done so.

"Daisuke? Here," his mother knelt in front of him, her rose-red eyes frightened and anxious. Daisuke was aware enough to hold out his hand, taking the pill that was placed in it into this mouth and swallowing with some difficulty.

A few breathless, tense seconds later, during which the room seemed the be stifled by a clammy hand that would not let go, his eyes back to an almost normal level of alertness, the Daisuke stood up, against his parents' protests, his voice just a tad unsteady, "Just a dizzy spell, it's gone now."

His reassuring smile was anything but.

"But Daisuke-chan, honey, are you sure you don't want to lie down?" his mother was the picture of worried maternal affection, his father's hand still pressed to his back. Daiki let the parents fuss over the child while he cleaned up the glass shards, but it was clear by the furtive glances that he was worried as well.

"Okaa-san, otou-san… not right now… I'm fine now, really," despite the fact that he was clearly grateful for the concern, it was also obvious that he didn't want it at the moment. Satoshi could imagine that he was embarrassed by having a guest around, but this seemed too serious to be concerned about something as trifling as that.

The grim tension was like a blanket stretched taut over the room, an unseen barrier that seemed to resonate between them. Kosuke, being the sensible man he was, realized that this was a losing battle and stepped back, touching his wife's arm briefly. She seemed to admit defeat, touching her son's cheek before sighing.

"Well!" she clapped her hands and forced a smile. Turning to Satoshi, smiling, he felt awkward at finally being acknowledged since the small crisis, "Why don't you boys go into the living room, while we pick up the kitchen, hm?"

Daisuke nodded, taking Satoshi's hand and leading him carefully out of the room, the silence heavy and unwanted. Rubbing his ankle absently as they dropped on the couch, Satoshi glanced at the firey-haired boy, hesitant to speak.

"Are you … feeling better?"

Daisuke avoided his gaze, his hands fidgeting with the tassel of the couch cushions. Wiz, popping up from nowhere, clambered on his master's lap, and Daisuke smiled fondly, though it hardly reached his eyes. Satoshi did not like where this was going, something was clearly off.

"I'm feeling better now, thanks," he said at length, his quiet voice wavering.

"That's good," Satoshi wasn't sure what else to say, but impulsively muttered, "You worried me."

Daisuke smiled, and Satoshi was glad to see it was sincere, even if tinged with sadness, "Satoshi-kun?"

"Yeah?"

Ruby eyes seemed to hesitate, before shyly looking away, small hands tightening around Wiz.

"Will you … be my friend? Just for six months?"

Satoshi's brow furrowed, puzzled at the odd request, "Of course…" he wanted to say, 'Why wouldn't I be?' and he really wanted to say that in truth, he wanted to, and had actually been more afraid of Daisuke _not_ wanting to be friends with him… but he wasn't sure how to express that. Since when did he communicate with guys his own age, anyway?

He might have been elated at having someone actually _wanting_ to be _friends_ with him, but there was still something that wasn't clicking, this whole conversation wasn't right… there was something behind Daisuke's reason, and Satoshi was afraid of what it was, whether because it was detrimental to him or the other boy, he wasn't sure.

"Thanks…" Daisuke whispered, standing up, "I'll be back, I'm just going to bring the presents downstairs…"

In reality, it was just an excuse to escape, and Satoshi knew it, but he didn't mind. Despite how comfortable he felt with Daisuke, whatever was off here had made the conversation awkward, and the bluenette felt uneasy. It worried him that Daisuke, who from the little Satoshi had gotten to know about him seemed like such an honest, sincere person who always felt at ease with others, had felt uncomfortable enough to feel the need to use an excuse to leave.

There was a sound like tic-tacs shaking in their container, and Satoshi turned to pick up the small bottle that Wiz had accidentally knocked over on the table. They weren't tic-tacs, however, but a bottle of pills, and Satoshi frowned and picked up the container, reading the label.

His eyes widened, and the missing piece fell into place explaining everything he'd seen tonight.

_Six months_. The pills expired in six months. That's all Daisuke had asked him to be friends for, and why this specific Christmas was important, and why his parents were so overprotective and careful with him. It explained the incident in the kitchen.

_He's… terminal…_ the words seemed to echo in his head, over and over, and his mind was overwhelmed with the full meaning of what he'd just found out. No… his first friend… _Daisuke_.

He couldn't understand why it hurt so much, why it was so painful it was numb and he couldn't think straight. He'd only gotten to know him today, he'd seen worse things because of his work, so why was this affecting him so much? He almost felt sick himself, his stomach clenched and his mind floating somewhere disconnected from his body.

There was a heavy thud from behind him, and Satoshi jumped, whirling around, feeling as if he'd been caught red-handed. Daisuke only blinked for a moment, the stack of presents at his feet, but then his eyes caught sight of the pills in his hand, and his face seemed to cloud over.

"So you figured it out?" a sad smile bloomed for a second before wilting away.

* * *

**Man... aren't I mean to them? And you have yet to see what I'm going to do to Dark and Krad, and later on to Daisuke and Satoshi... I felt kinda bad for doing this to Dai-chan... **

**Quote from next chapter: "...Just turn off the lights before you leave... and I guess I won't be seeing you around again, will I?"**

**MeRrY ChRIsTmaS! Review please and thank you! **


	6. Tricks of Betrayal

**I'm the worst person on earth, I know that. I'm sorry! It's been a year, but at least it's before Christmas, right? right. To any who still remember this... thank you! Oh, and sorry for the double update. I needed to edit some stuff, but then I accidentally deleted the chapter-- hence, the update of a 'new' chapter. **

* * *

**_Christmas Warmth_**

* * *

Warm breath suddenly crept around Krad's neck, and he froze as a low voice whispered dangerously in his ear, "You weren't supposed to see that." 

His stomach lurched into his throat, and broad gold eyes whirled about to find a pair of amethysts that gazed blankly at him, even as the mouth was pressed into a shape that accused him, even as the room lost all warmth for a moment, plunging into a glacial chill, and the sky outside lost all light, bathing the room in darkness. Save for the one ray that penetrated the turbulent, silent air, illuminating the glossy paper picturing a violet-haired woman sinking slowly into the abyss of her blood, her mangled limbs crying out for redemption, her crimson-soaked hair streaking her upturned face.

Her blank, dead eyes were just like Dark's.

The blond's heart did stop beating, for a shrill moment his mind screamed against all that was wrong with the situation, with a morbid fear that what had happened to that woman— Dark's mother— would now happen to him. But it wasn't terror at the prospect of death, no, that was something he looked at almost sweetly. It was terror at the thought of betrayal.

And yet, even frozen in his spot, because there was no excuse for what he'd done —he'd trespassed Dark's privacy, and paid a heavy price, and there was a chance there would still be one heavier to pay, too shocked to do more than stare, gape, have fear clutching at his heart like he was twelve again, after _he'd_ left, and the thought of life as a grim, grim, dark veil that only needed to be burned away had consumed him…

And yet, even as his mind imploded and his face fell into its habitual mask of indifference as his heart iced over, all he could really find in those violet eyes, underneath that layer of opaque wax, was a fear rivaling his own, but crying out with sorrow and solitude instead of desperate defiance.

They both beat their bloodied hands on the mirror of betrayal.

He was surprised when all Dark did was sigh, breath wavering as if he was about to commit himself to crucifixion, and bent down to pick up the picture, his eyes shying away from actually studying it, knuckles tight and white as they gripped the edge of the photo.

His voice was oddly calm as he said, "Do you want to know?"

The blonde's eyes took refuge in the dark corners of the room, speaking delicately, "I do not need to."

A hand pulled his chin up roughly, jerking his weak body into dangerous alarm. There was an odd reluctance of touch in the motion, and Krad smelled apprehension in the tempest of the silence.

"Oh, but I think you do," the violet-haired demon held the photo in the air, as a sort of testimony bathed in blood that let the window's light illuminate it into a blinding icon of purity.

"It is the moment of Judgment, and you are my jury. "

The dark-skinned hand that had clutched his chin now slid off wearily, reaching out instead for the stack of pictures on the angel's lap, leafing, as if by heart, through them to find the very earliest ones. His grim face loosened a bit as he lifted the picture slightly in a gesturing motion, "I remember this one. It was with my parents' camera. We were on vacation at the beach. I was actually trying to get the seagulls, but they flew away before I could get the shots. And this," he flipped over another one, "was my kindergarten classroom, when we displayed our clay figures."

It continued that way for a while, a pained aura of his looking on with nostalgia, sometimes a bittersweet smile, at the fragments of his childhood, and his comments, though aloud, seemed more like heavy musings that were being stirred in his melancholy heart.

Krad's eyes narrowed. He was confused at the situation— the danger he sensed from it no longer seemed of the physical kind, but nonetheless placed him at the utmost center of his carefully constructed guards. In his eyes there was now no leak of emotion, only a gaze that turned them into purest gold, cold, metallic and inanimate. The fright that had before assailed him— so uncharacteristically— he'd now easily buried with the practiced ease of a mind and heart used to being locked up. He'd learned early on that one only survived by closing oneself off from the world and emotions, because otherwise, the pain would stab you over and over again, each time breaking off a larger shell of your mind, until there was nothing left… he would not be like that, he'd told himself. Better to have no heart than to live with a broken one, he thought. And thus, there would be nothing here that could shock him, or hurt him. Not even if the dark-haired man in front of him were to…

"This is my mother," Dark said softly, holding the picture closely to himself for a moment, violet strands of hair hanging limply from his down-turned face. Krad did not take the picture when it was then reverently held out to him, and Dark hesitated, unsure, before shrugging dully and continuing, picking up a photo Krad had overlooked. His voice now had an edge of bitter harshness, tossing the picture on the ground. Torn in two, only haphazard tape held it together, as an afterthought to the obvious intent of destroying it.

"_That,_" he crossed his long legs and tried to act nonchalant, while his deep voice seethed and his eyes were anything but, "is my father."

Krad supposed that there had been a reason, then, why he'd initially disliked the father, even from a photograph. But then, his intuition had always been particularly sharp. So this was it? Dark was going to tell him his life story?

Golden eyes said nothing, inwardly relaxing but unwilling to let it show as of yet, and allowed the indigo-eyed demon to interpret his silence as he wished. Whether he took it as permission to go on or just wanted to let out his coming story in full, Dark continued, looking out toward the gloomy, snow-laden window, his body melding with the darkness until his hands and face were the only things that showed in the dark. And that pinpoint of reflected window-light that shone in his mirror-like eyes, hiding the turmoil within. What demon was to be revealed from the darkness by that pinprick of light?

"I love Mother," he whispered fiercely and suddenly, as if he wanted there to be no mistake about it, his voice full of painful conviction, "And I know I loved my father at some point. But I can't remember what that was like— and never will," his index finger drew a nervous sketch on his forearm, the rest of him stone-rigid, "…We lived clear on the other side of the country. It was a nice place, pretty rural and fun. It snowed a lot there too, even the summers were cool. Our next door neighbors had an apple orchard I used to always play in and…" he broke off, and closed his eyes, his voice falling back from its dreamlike swell into a quiet confession, "Right, that has nothing to do with this. I live in the past a lot. That past, at least.

"In any case… my father and Mother were great… I can't complain of my early childhood. I never went without, and I had a lot of friends. Mother… I adored her, more than most children do even at that age, mainly, I think, because I spent so much time with her. I was home-schooled, and it was from her that I gained my love of photography, so she…" paused, and thickly swallowed, "taught me all of that."

Krad leaned back against the bed, his sharp eyes curiously studying what was being displayed to him, for Dark was not as in control of his emotion as the angel was, and his voice, though forcefully suppressed, nonetheless gave clear indication of his emotions in its low, pained rumble. His fingers now clutched some miscellaneous object from the floor, alternatively squeezing or fingering it, and the curve of his shoulders tensed in synchrony with the inflections in his voice. How would this story weave itself into the macabre ending Krad had seen?

"But my father's company went bankrupt. Or at least, that's all I was ever told. It took me a while to realize what was going on, but once it was obvious we'd fallen on hard times, I soon found out that it wasn't as homey of a town as it seemed after all. They were only interested in the superficial, and that's all they were in turn. A poor family with a homeless alcoholic at the head was not welcomed. He was an alcoholic before I was born, and when trouble came again, he turned again to the bottle. I despise him for it," Dark swallowed, his fisted hand loosening self-consciously, "…I didn't have much to look forward to during those next couple years. My only true outlet was my camera, but it was expensive to keep up, so I would shoplift the rolls from the stores. They never wised up, I suppose I was good. I never realized how sheltered a life I had led until then… I'd never seen robbery, and now I was committing it. I'd never seen abuse, and now it was my own father who was the perpetrator. Mother would tell me to run away when he got violent, and I was left to watch as he took out his frustrations on her, and couldn't do _anything_!" the pound of his fist on the floor startled Krad and shook the lamp, head bent low and body hunched, "Do you know what that's like? Watching the father you once looked up to and saw as a hero _beating, smashing, kicking, spitting at,_ —_hurting_ your mother? The one thing you love most in the world and you consider the goddess-like being of your life? She was everything to me, especially in those times. I couldn't take it, it broke me— it _breaks me_, to even think about it. I sat there, sniffling like a little kid and watching through the bars of the stairs and listen to the screams she tried to hold back for my sake."

His voice wavered and hitched pathetically, and all was silent for a snowfall of a second before his gust of a deadened sigh betokened his reigned emotions, "Sometimes though, it got to be too much, and I would fight back, especially as I got older and bigger," his hand rose, trembling, to rub his collarbone absently, and he turned to Krad, though his eyes were careful to never make contact, "You want to see? The results of fighting back?" he leaned close, alluringly in any other situation, pulling his collar down to reveal the taut expanse of richly-colored skin, where a thin scar ran down from the side of his neck to cup his collarbone. Krad found himself lifting his hand to let his fingers brush over the skin, his cold fingers making contact with the scalding flesh of his neck, and realized, belatedly, that his façade had begun falling apart, and he was now listening with grim expectation on his face.

"It was just a glass," he said with a feral, manic smirk on his face that embraced the shadows, and proclaimed him king of obscurity, "but I nearly bled to death. I was in the hospital for two weeks, and when I got home, found that he'd broken her foot as well. I never did get over that, watching her limp around for the rest of her life…" he drifted off, looking up at the ceiling, where a rainbow formed by a CD gleamed darkly, his voice vicious and regretful, haunted and reproaching at the same time, his body motions conflicting with each other as they sought to express his maelstrom of emotions, like unsynchronized machinery, "It was hard watching her take it all just because he was a good man when sober, and she loved him. Or at least, that's what she'd tell me."

Indigo eyes glanced sideways at Krad's still form, penetrating, his tone dropping into a monotone of desperate control, "You saw it. He killed her. I walked in the back door and…" his repulsion seemed to have finally caught up with him, because he turned away abruptly, making a strangled noise that sounded like he was almost going to vomit. Krad was impulsively tempted to reach out and pull him back gently by the shoulder and…

"There's… definitely something wrong… with standing in front of your mother's body and pressing down the shutter button. It took me several minutes of just staring to really understand what had happened, so… I-I guess it was just artistic instinct that came in at that point. But… I'll never treat anyone like he did… I'll never be like him…" his breathing was erratic, even from the blond's distance, "…I didn't last more than a year without her. I gathered my things, and left. I was fifteen, and just before I left… I snuck into his room where he was sleeping off his hangover and stabbed him. I don't know if he died or not, I left and never came back."

With that last confession, his strength seemed to ebb away completely, and he lay slumped there, defeated and haunted and waiting. Then, in one unsteady movement, he stood up, back turned to Krad, and muttered, his voice now devoid of all earlier emotions, "I don't feel like talking anymore."

Krad supposed that he felt sorry— indeed, that was the only name he could put to the clenching feeling in his chest, but he sat there, unfazed, watching Dark's form with a raised eyebrow.

"What do you think?" the hopeless, blank voice cut through the air, and without even waiting for a response, went on, "Just… turn off the lights before you leave. And… well, I guess I won't be seeing you anymore."

He burrowed then into the covers, silent, dreadful, Krad could feel it in the stagnant air, in the oppressing darkness that left all the shapes as vague, formless blobs, monsters in the dark waiting to devour them.

The blond sat immobile, watching the lump in the bed, before standing up on newborn legs and making his way out, not bothering to look back and turning off the living room lights with a pensive finger as he passed through.

He leaned against the darkened hallway wall, covering his mouth with his hand to muffle the bitter laughter that bubbled up. All this! He wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, though by no means did he belittle Dark's feelings, for to him this was obviously as tragic as tragedy came, and rightly so. Compared to the vast majority of people, Dark's life had been something out of a psychological thriller or horror story. To him, the pain and guilt that haunted him was reality, and as damning as a curse of isolation and endless torture.

But it did not so much as bother Krad. Not really. He knew it was a horrible story, and as he'd said, he did feel for Dark's pain, but it was hardly anything to take notice, not compared to what _he'd_ seen, or been through. Or maybe he really had detached himself so much, that a tale as macabre as this one left little impression on him. In fact, it was rather amusing the shame and reluctance with which the other man spoken, as if afraid that Krad would be shocked, dismayed, repulsed. Though, yes, there was no denying that the initial shock, especially of his mother's death picture, had disgusted him, mostly though, it had merely perplexed him. But it didn't take long for those feelings to fade, and now Krad was simply left with a casually regretful shake of his head, as he thought that Dark's fear and unease had been in vain. It meant very little to the blond whether Dark had attempted murder, possibly gotten away with it, and the idea of beatings and near-death bleedings was to him what a child's bruise is to a surgeon.

Really, had Dark thought that Krad would give up what he'd found here— he wasn't positive as to what to call it, or whether he even wanted to put a name to it,— just because of a demon's faerie tale?

_Fool_, he thought softly, and almost smiled to himself.

He crept back in surreptitiously, eyeing the man who had taken up the furthest side of the bed, night-dark hair splayed over the pillow or tucked underneath the covers, which allowed for nothing else to be seen. Those same covers muffled the movement well, but Krad was sure he was shaking. He noted with some satisfaction, that the movement ceased abruptly as the blond sank his weight on the mattress, shifting in closer with confidence and draping the loose covers about his own body.

And yes, a few seconds later— as if for confirmation that it wasn't a trick— the body whirled around, wide, liquid eyes searching inquiringly, confusedly, into the blond's, reflecting the light that seemed to emanate from the golden hair and eyes. It shone off the damp marks running down Dark's face, making them startlingly obvious. Krad reached out to cup his face with the intention of wiping his cheeks, but Dark withdrew as soon as he'd lifted his hand.

"Woops," he murmured, smiling faintly as he scrubbed his face in the pillow, "You weren't supposed to see that either."

Krad offered nothing to the searching gaze he was regaled with, making himself comfortable as if being here, next to Dark, was the most natural thing in the world. Which, somehow, he was beginning to feel it was. The dark-haired man was apprehensive still, it was apparent in the rigidity of his body, how he still had an aura of an animal being approached by a human. Ironically, Krad realized, it was the way the blond had initially felt when Dark had rescued him. Wary, suspicious, afraid of being betrayed. Truly ironic, the way their positions had been juxtaposed.

"Krad," he suddenly began, "why did you—"

"Shh," he silenced him with a chastising finger on his lips, and without allowing himself to think on it— because if he did, he would have been alarmed at emotion behind his actions— he tilted his head forward until his lips breezed tantalizingly over Dark's own, ghosting his words in warm breaths over the moist lips, "The judgment you spoke of… was nonexistent."

Without bothering to see Dark's reaction — amethyst eyes widened and glittered wetly,— he pushed against those lips, drawing out a sweet kiss with which to dispel the darkness that reigned over them both.

* * *

**So, boo, I hope that was satisfactory. It was hard getting back into the swing of it. Oh well. I do have more planned for this, especially on Dai and Sato's part, with several surprises in store that should make the wait worthwhile. So hang on please! And review! I'd like to see who still remembers this fic and enjoys it. **

**Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, good luck with life in general! **


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